It was a week and a half before Christmas Day, and my first of two nights to play Santa. My trip this evening was to a home for residents with developmental disabilities, about 8 to 10 people, all adults and in all types of physical crises.
I stand outside the door and ring a strap of little bells and someone opens the door and lets me enter.
“HOHOHO!”
“Santa is here! EVERYBODY, SANTA IS HERE!”
I enter and the house parent greets me with a camera flash, I’m blinded!
“SANTA, you know that last week you didn’t take a picture of Debbie on your lap! You must have been very busy and forgot! Debbie felt very bad.”
Feeling like a heel, I sheepishly enter seeking out Debbie. Debbie is a short white haired lady, one of the multitudes of forgotten people in our large world.
I realize that I am Santa Clause, so I am paying for some other Santa’s mistake. I just hope he didn’t rob a bank, too.
I take Debbie by the hand and escort her to the room where I will be distributing presents to the residents. Some of the residents are already giving me a rundown as to what they want, and some will not leave me, a look of hero worship in their eyes.
Debbie has a large smile on her face, being escorted by Santa, she feels special.
You know you don’t get opportunities to help people feel good often. Sometimes opportunity knocks but you don’t answer. Sometimes you knock and people slam the door in your face. Working for people with disabilities is the greatest of opportunities, because there is no reward for you except what Debbie felt those few moments with Santa. It is a great feeling!
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